


Memories are Killing Me

by shinguji



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, And he just wants to be comforted, Child Abuse, Everything I write is self-indulgent at this point, Heavy discussion of past trauma, Hurt/Comfort, It’s all referenced... nothing is explicit, Kaito is a good caregiver, Kiyo has mostly recovered but he’s not perfect, Kiyo is the little :), M/M, Mentions of Injuries, Mentions of self-harm, Non-Sexual Age Play, Rated M for heavy vent and sensitive content, Sister is gross and we hate her, child molestation, nonconsensual incest, the absolute best, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:41:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22670407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinguji/pseuds/shinguji
Summary: Even though his sister is gone, it’s still hard sometimes.
Relationships: Momota Kaito/Shinguji Korekiyo
Comments: 9
Kudos: 95





	Memories are Killing Me

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags for warnings and keep in mind that this is a heavy vent. Stay safe. <3 I relate to Kiyo’s character as well as his past so deeply, so I let a little bit too much of that out in this. The title is from Legacy by Black Dresses, which I feel ties in well with this fic. Also, there isn’t enough Momoguji on this planet... where are my fellow shippers? I know y’all are out there... >:( Anyway, enjoy.

“Kiyo?” I asked tentatively, knocking on the door with the back of my knuckles. “You in here? It’s Kaito.”

I could hear faint sniffling from the other side of the door. “Mhm,” he responded softly. “Come in.” Something in his tone sounded off, but I ignored it as I opened the door.

Kiyo was curled up on the floor, his knees flush against his chest, arms wrapped tightly around his legs. He smiled through the tears and snot as he registered my face. “Daddy…”

“Aww, hi baby,” I said with a little wave. “Didn’t realize you were regressed.” I sat beside him and pulled him into my lap, wiping his face with my coat sleeve. No big deal; I’d throw it in the washing machine later. Comforting Kiyo was far more important to me than a clean jacket. 

Having him on my lap was a little awkward, considering he was taller than me, but he was also far more slender, so he fit well between my shoulders. After a moment, he relaxed against my chest, still breathing shakily.

“Daddy,” he repeated quietly, almost a whine. It was a little concerning, considering that he almost never called me Daddy, avoiding all childish nicknames unless he was extremely regressed and upset. Of course, right now, he certainly had reason to be.

Just before, we had been watching some obscure anime that Tsumugi and a few of the upperclassmen had wanted to show all of us. Almost no one wanted to watch it, but, because it was Tsumugi’s party, we all begrudgingly agreed.

Thanks to Tsumugi’s weird taste, though, there was a character within the first few minutes who was incredibly flirtatious toward her younger sibling. While it made almost everyone else laugh or just weirded out, I could see Kiyo’s body trembling next to me. Eventually, even though the scene was over, Kiyo clung to my arm, teardrops staining my coat. A few minutes later, and Kiyo had run off to some bedroom at the back of the house, his steps uncertain and shaky.

“It’s okay, baby,” I assured him as I rubbed his arm gently. “It’s all okay. Daddy’s gotcha.”

He whimpered again, turning in my lap and sinking to bury his face in my chest. “Sorry. ’m so sorry,” he mumbled, his words a little slurred with mucus and a trembling bottom lip. “My… my apologies,” he managed, clearly trying to sound more mature and coax himself out of his regression.

“Hey, nothing to be sorry about. It’s okay,” I whispered, smoothing down his short hair and rubbing the back of his neck. “D’ya wanna go home? I’ll drive you home, or you can come home with Daddy. I don’t mind.”

He shook his head against my chest. “Uh uh. Gotta be a grown-up. Gotta—I need to stop,” he choked out, eyes watering into the front of my shirt.

I sighed, wrapping my arms around him. “Baby, you don’t have to force yourself out of this. It’s okay to be upset. I get it, I really do.”

“But…” he trailed off, clearing his throat and wiping his eyes. We sat in silence for a moment before he continued, his voice a bit steadier. “I should be over it. Si—my sister is gone. I thought it was all okay, I thought…” he trailed off again, taking another deep breath. “I cut my hair, and I can wear clothes that show my skin without breaking down, and I stopped everything, everything, all of it. Why am I still so…”

Frowning, I pressed a kiss to his forehead. He shouldn’t have forced himself out of littlespace, but now that it was done, I couldn’t do anything but try to make him relax. Sadly, little Kiyo was far easier to rationalize with. “Listen, Kiyo. No one expects you to ever fully get over it. Just because you moved on doesn’t mean it’ll stop hurting. You just… you gotta keep trying. You’re doing so good right now, baby. So much happier. But there’ll still be times when things upset you. There always will. You don’t need to think you’re weak for that, though. You’re so, so, so strong for recovering as much as you have already.”

He choked out another sob that he had clearly been doing his best to hold back. “I wanna—I want to get over it so badly,” he whined. “I want it to stop. I don’t wanna… I do not wish to think about her anymore.”

“Shh, I know. It’s okay…” I murmured, rubbing my thumb over his cheek. “It’s okay, baby.”

“It’s just… I spent my entire childhood being the person she told me to be, and I gave up trying to tell anyone because nobody would believe it, and she was a girl and a perfect student and sickly and weak and I just wanted their attention, and I was an introverted freak and I was too girly and all the wounds were obviously self-inflicted because of their placement—she did it on purpose, she knew she wouldn’t get caught because it looked like I cut myself and stapled my own finger  _ forty-seven times _ and no one ever even saw the bruises and scratches on my back—and, and,” he paused, taking in a deep, shaky breath, “and I put up with it and told her what she wanted to hear and told everyone how much I loved her, and I let her do whatever she wanted to me and I stopped crying when she hit me or pinned me down and I stopped screaming when she touched me because our parents were never home, there was no one to hear it, and it just made her do it again, and—”

I was kissing his forehead again, wiping up the tears that streamed quickly down his face. “Baby, I know. I know. It’s all okay now,” I whispered, unsure of how to properly comfort him after an outburst like that. I knew most of that already, but it still hurt to hear, and it hurt even more to see him sobbing like that, his voice wavering and wobbling with raw pain. “It’s awful, just the worst, I know. But please don’t blame yourself, ’cause I know you’re doing it in your head right now. It’s not your fault, angel.”

His words were barely making it past his lips, hiccuping between breaths. “I used to hate that I could never love her enough, but now… I just hate that I still mourn her death. She was horrible, I shouldn’t love her, I shouldn’t feel bad, I…”

“Baby, please, it’s okay. You can’t help it, and that’s okay. It’s not your fault,” I repeated, trailing kisses down to his cheek and pressing my finger against the tip of his nose. He whimpered at the touch, leaning into it. “She, like, groomed you into it. It was all you knew. It’s not your fault, please understand that.”

Choking out another loud sob, he buried his face in my chest again. “I love you so much.”

“Love you too, baby, more than anything,” I said softly, petting the top of his head and planting kisses on his hair. “You’re so sweet and… you’re just so amazing, okay? You don’t deserve this. Not at all. It’s all gonna be okay. You’re so strong. Even when you have moments of weakness, you keep fighting. So strong,” I assured him. It felt superficial, but I really did mean it. I just wasn’t sure what else to say.

He made a little happy noise, muffled by his tears and my chest, and grabbed a fistful of my shirt. “Thank you, Daddy,” he managed, letting himself slip back into littlespace with a faint sigh of relief. I followed suit.

Hugging him tightly again, I brushed a bundle of short hair behind his ear, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Of course, baby, of course,” I gushed, realizing that I was probably overdoing it on the pet names. We sat in silence for a moment as I rocked back and forth gently, and he shut his eyes, relaxing a little bit. “So, you wanna go home, kiddo?”

“Mhm,” he responded softly, “but I don’t wanna make Ts’mugi mad. Wanna… go to Daddy’s house ’nd relax, take a bath, read…”

I smiled at the pure excitement in his still-watery eyes. “Of course, baby. And, uh, I’ll talk to Tsumugi, explain you were just upset and stuff. I don’t think she’ll be mad.”

He giggled, and god, if that wasn’t the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. I almost never heard him laugh in anything other than a breathy chuckle. “Yay,” he said with a grin, “let’s go home!” He tugged my sleeve slightly and hopped out of my lap, dried tears still shining on his cheeks.

With a huff, I stood up beside him, frowning at how much taller than me he was. “My baby boy is so big…” I sighed, tilting my head up to give him another kiss on the cheek.

He visibly melted at the contact and giggled again. “Let’s go!” he repeated, clearly determined to leave. His eyes were still a little wet, so I carefully reached out to his hand and gingerly wrapped my fingertips around his. “Daddy, please?”

“Alright, alright. I’ll take you out to the truck and you can just sit tight while I talk to Tsumugi.”

“Wait, no,” he whined with panicked eyes. “Don’t leave me alone, Daddy, please, I don’t wanna be—”

The fear in his voice made my heart ache, but I couldn’t have him around Tsumugi in this state. “I… okay. I’ll just call her later in the truck. It’s alright, baby. I’m not leaving you.”

He was absolutely beaming, his eyes still red and wet, and he promptly wrapped his arms around me. “Love youuuu…”

After he was buckled safely into the shotgun seat (normally I would put him in the back, but he really wanted to be close to me, and he was tall enough anyway), he immediately dug into the stack of children’s magazines on the floorboards and started listing off facts to me. Kiyo and his regressed self weren’t all that different in that regard: he always rambled on to me about what he read, whether it was in-depth lectures on the branch of geology as a whole and its importance in cultures around the globe, or basic trivia about crystals made for children.

Still, I was grateful. Grateful that he was happy enough to read to me, grateful that the redness was fading from his eyes, grateful that he was healing more and more every day, grateful that I got to hear his voice, whether it was deep and shaky or giddy and awkward with regression.

So as he prattled off more facts about the Mohs scale in his childish lilt, his voice clearer and less choked-up, I smiled along to every word he said, every giggle when I complimented him, every plan he had for when we got to my house.

I loved hearing him talk. It meant my baby was safe.

And I always listened. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this wasn’t too negative. I also think I made little Kiyo a bit too loud and giggly, but after an emotional episode, I think he would be extra childish. Anyway, thank you for reading; feel free to leave feedback in the comments. Since this has agere, I’ll probably get some hate. I won’t turn on comment moderation unless I have to, so please don’t make me. Thanks again! <3


End file.
